Like last week's essay, the following comes from a draft of a book I'm working on. In the event it doesn't make it into the final copy, I thought I'd share my ramblings on my blog. I hope this one reminds you of your power to change yourself for the better.



A Long Walk Home



One afternoon during the spring of 2008, I decided to head outside and do some sprint intervals. I’d sprint for about 100 yards, walk for a block or two, sprint 100 yards, and so on.



I was out for about 45 minutes and was about two blocks from home. The sun was shining, the Rocky IV Training Montage started playing on my iPod, and I thought, “One last all-out sprint.” 



Instead of rolling into a sprint by simply speeding up from my walk, like I had the rest of my workout, I stopped and planted my foot flat on the ground. I was determined to make this my best sprint yet. I launched myself from my starting position with my foot still flat on the ground for maximum power.



Think about my stupidity for a moment here. If you crouch down into a starting position for a sprint, with your knees bent and your back foot flat on the ground, and then extend your knees and hips forward as fast as possible, what happens?



Try it in slow motion on your floor. Really slow. You’ll get a great calf stretch when you do it slowly. 



When you do it as fast and hard as possible, your calf can only stretch so much before your Achilles tendon pops right out of your ankle. That’s exactly what happened to me.



I launched myself from the starting position, and as soon as my left leg straightened out, I felt a pop in my ankle. It was one of those moments where time slowed down.



In the short span of time transitioning my weight from my left to my right leg, I thought, “That was a weird feeling. I think I just tore my Achilles. I need to stop my forward momentum with my right leg.” I tried to slow myself with the weight on my right foot, hopping on that leg a few times to do so.



Keeping the weight on my right leg, I looked at my left and saw an indentation above my ankle, where my Achilles tendon had previously been attached.



I sat down on the grass next to the sidewalk and called Vanessa, hoping she could pick me up. Unfortunately, she was at work, and our sons were too young to drive.



I limped the two blocks home and drove to the orthopedic clinic. I had it reattached a couple of days later. This was my first serious rehab. Other than working out two days after surgery, using my three good limbs for my strength training sessions, I didn’t do a lot to enhance the recovery process. I even went to a few standard physical therapy sessions, which were a total waste of money, as I basically did calf stretches for $150 an hour.



I pretty much took the surgeon’s word for how long it would take to recover and what my calf would look and function like once it healed. It’s got a ton of scar tissue and is considerably smaller and weaker than the uninjured one, my right calf. 



This became my lesson about taking your rehab and recovery into your own hands rather than relying only on what a surgeon or other healthcare practitioner tells you to do. 



Disarmed



Six years later, I was working out at the Chanhassen, Minnesota Life Time, just before going to work at the Life Time corporate office across the campus.



I felt extra strong that morning. My third exercise was deadlifts. On my third set, I got to the top of the movement, standing tall with 405 pounds clenched comfortably in my hands. 



In this position, your arms are straight, which puts a good amount of tension on your biceps, especially if you use a mixed grip, which means one palm faces forward and the other faces backward. With such a grip, the bar doesn’t slip or roll out of your hands. 



Most people know their bicep crosses their elbow. That’s how it lifts your hand toward your mouth. But part of it also crosses your shoulder.



So, I was standing tall,